Put to Rights
by Lydian Stone
Summary: Begins after Bye, K. Deeks had respected the stoicism his partner required while she was precariously teetering on the edge. Kensi realized being her tether left Deeks feeling frayed. Their partnership becomes an awkward dance of redrawing the lines.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Soilers for Blye, K parts 1 & 2. Just felt like Marty needed a little more closure. ****I don't own the characters**

**Chapter 4 is an episode tag to Neighborhood Watch that follows this fic. Chapter 5 is a tag to Descent.**

**Put to Rights**

Marty Deeks threw his keys on the table, ran his hands through his shaggy blonde hair and all but fell onto his worn couch. He let the silence of his apartment insulate him from the horrors of what could have been, and even from the uncertainty of what he should do next. Today had been all about keeping his partner alive, and hopefully not incarcerated. "Alive and well" was way too optimistic of an outcome for anyone to hope. After all, being screwed up on some level was an understood prerequisite to gelling with Hetty's band of misfits. No, it had been precious years since any the team had been "alive and well," assuming any of them ever truly had been.

* * *

><p><em>Earlier<em>

Granger's shots were a welcome relief to all involved and were followed by sacred moments of silence. First Granger met Kensi's eyes, a look of equal parts apology and support bridged the gap between them. He then graciously walked outside to call in the incident. Sam moved first, clasping her shoulder with his rock solid grip, he opened his mouth but nothing came, just a nod. She nodded slightly as he walked past her up the stairs. Callen neared but kept a safe distance, arms crossed. He and Kensi were both so naturally cagy and they seemed to get each other on a fundamental level. No words or touching needed. The softness in his eyes spoke volumes and Deeks could have sworn he heard his partner's breath hitch as though Callen had actually spoken the words, "You're too valuable for us to lose." She closed her eyes, shutting down the brief but piercing emotional exchange then G joined his partner, giving Kensi and Deeks space.

Space. Kensi thrived on having a wide margin of personal space in every sense of the word. It seemed to Deeks that if ever there were a time for a group hug, that moment had just passed. He seemed to be the only team player without a touchy-feely phobia, so the policy of guarded affection won the day. He looked at his partner, and calculated the best approach.

She was still – no shakiness, no sobbing tremors. She had allowed him to touch her earlier, only to assess her ribs but if that worked once, in a way he'd not soon forget, then perhaps it would work again. He hesitantly touched her arm and, ignoring all the emotional issues at hand, he just said, "Hey, let me take a look at that cut." She didn't make eye contact, but she let him carefully unzip her jacket and ease it off of her, then led her gently to the kitchen. As she leaned against the island he noted the long slash in her white shirt soaked with her freely flowing blood. He dampened a cloth then situated it over the wound on her bent arm, one hand firmly fastening the cloth in place, the other underneath her forearm for her support or his, he wasn't really sure.

She met his eyes for the first time and he saw the tears welling in them, yet she didn't look away as he would have expected. He knew that this uncharacteristic show of emotion was a means of communicating gratitude for all the ways he had been there for her. He didn't ooze of stoicism like the other three, rather he showed his humanity freely, often suffering the ribbing that goes with any perceived weakness. Sometimes she envied his transparency, but being that she could not change her fundamental make-up, she at least allowed him this glimpse of her own instability. He had to constantly keep his feet planted so he did not close the gap between them. He resisted engulfing her in the embrace that _he_ really needed. Instead he risked slowly raising a hand and thumbing a few tears away. She let him and he rejoiced in that small success.

At the sound of sirens he cleared his throat and said, "I guess I should let the professionals take over." Despite his words she realized that he had not had any real intention of letting go of her arm.

She smiled at him and replied, "Hopefully they'll have more than a washcloth."

The house and grounds were soon buzzing with activity and Kensi was escorted to an ambulance to be assessed while Deeks did what he could to process the scene and answer questions. Before long his partner returned with a bandaged arm and an ice pack to her side. She still wore the white shirt minus one badly ripped sleeve. She refused any special treatment or to be ushered away. One by one they urged her to go, all the while knowing that she would refuse any respite offered. She stayed until all four were kicked off the scene.

Deeks dropped her at the mission then promised her that he would get her mother home. Kensi's smile showed a tired appreciation as she turned to head in search of a new shirt and some final answers.

If Deeks hadn't known what to say to his partner's estranged mother before, he certainly wasn't sure where to start after the firefight. Perhaps, "By the way your house was trashed, we tried to clean the blood as best we could – and some of it was your daughter's?" That wouldn't do, but really what would be appropriate at such a time? He was spared somewhat since the detectives posted at the boathouse had given her the basics before he arrived. Of course she still needed some clarification.

As soon as he walked in Ms. Feldman grasped Deeks' arm, "How is my daughter? Was she hurt?"

"Kensi will be fine. She's a little banged up. Has a cut on her arm that required stitches, and a cracked rib from earlier today, but that's all. She's okay."

The hug of relief surprised him, but it made sense that Kensi inherited most of her reserve from her father. "Thank you, Detective, Thank you for keeping her safe." In that moment Marty Deeks felt the extent of his professional deficiencies. There was so much he didn't do, or that his maddeningly independent partner wouldn't let him do that he felt he really couldn't take the credit for her sound health. The phone call that she let herself make but refused to allow herself to use as a means to ask for his help popped in his mind as Exhibit A. He sighed, but deferred his pity party for the sake of Kensi's mom.

"I can't take much credit, she is a very capable, independent agent. But I can tell you I'm as relieved as you are right now." Before giving her a chance to analyze that statement he changed the subject. "She told me that she was going to try to stop by to see you tonight. She asked me to drive you home. I should warn you that your house has significant damage as a result of the firefight, but I know that Hetty Lange, our boss, put her top people on the clean up effort so I hope by now they've made some progress."

Kensi's mom gave tearful nods in reply, "As long as Kensi's okay I don't care about the house."

Hetty certainly knew people because by the time Deeks arrived, not only were all the bloodstains magically erased, but the windows had been replaced and there was a drywall crew patching up the bullet holes. Not bad work for a matter of a few short hours.

He returned to their bullpen and met the gaze of Callen and Sam, who both nodded and smiled at him. Sam spoke first, "Way to man-up out there." Despite the lightness of the comment, Deeks just didn't have it in him to exchange witty banter. He crossed his arms, leaned on his desk and looked at the ceiling blowing out a long sigh. Sam persisted by lightly punching his shoulder and saying, "Hey, you had Kensi's back, you did a good job. Kept her grounded."

Deeks responded with "It was close. Too close."

The three men knew that Kensi was the one team member that teetered on the edge more precariously than the rest.

Callen piped in, "Deeks, You can't worry about what might have happened or it will eat you alive. I've known Kensi since she joined NCIS. You're the only one that she'll let talk her down." Not to let things get too serious he added, "Who knew what she needed for a partner was a grungy surfer boy?"

Sam smiling, added, "I certainly didn't see that coming. Of course, G, I never expected you to kiss Kensi, either, but hey, she's full of surprises."

That got Deeks' attention. "Wait, What? You kissed Kens? When?"

Callen, appreciating Sam's ability to lighten the mood, remembered the time he and Kensi posed as a drunk couple to gain entrance to a ship, smiled and replied, "You mean you haven't?"

Deeks acknowledged the barb for what it was – a distraction. Still, he filed the information away for later confirmation as his partner approached them looking relaxed for the first time since all this started. The others offered what amounted to Hallmark worthy comments as far as team sentiments go, then they were alone. He again resisted the urge to bear hug his partner, knowing that her emotional day was not over. He directed his feet to respect her space, and he tried to end the day as normally as possible.

* * *

><p>Kensi visited her mother as promised. She knew that her mom had done nothing wrong, but so many years of distance did have consequences. She was stunned earlier in the day when she peered through the window and recognized the woman's graceful movements. It had all been so much to digest in a matter of a day. The sentimental side of her knew that she should dive in, embrace her mother and start where they left off oh so many years ago; however, the practical, guarded side of her knew that she needed to take this slowly, that even though her mother hadn't sinned in the way she had resented for over a decade, trust still needed to be earned, and she had emotional limits. Tonight she visited, got a long overdue therapeutic parental hug, and called a woman "Mom" for the first time in 15 years. Kensi did not stay long, and her mother wisely recognized the shifty eyes and the restlessness for what they were – uncertainty, not rejection.<p>

Throughout the day's events, one common thread had laced through her thoughts - Deeks. She knew he had held vigil over her throughout it all; from forcing her to think through her intentions to chauffering her mom. Whatever she needed, he had been there, and he would have done more – had wanted to do more, if she would have let him. But that was it, wasn't it? She orchestrated their partnership. She gave a command or a warning and he respected it. Sure they joked about him being the "girl" in their relationship, but really, he was stronger than she gave him credit for, in fact he had been her tether throughout the madness.

A tether can start to unravel if under too much strain. She knew she'd see him tomorrow, but the realization of just how much pain she had caused him held her captive and she needed to check on her partner before she could rest peacefully.

* * *

><p>He hadn't realized how much time had passed since he plopped himself onto the couch after tossing his keys on the table. He just sat, not thinking, or at least trying his best to clear his mind when there was a light knock on the door.<p>

He opened it to a 6-pack of beer and a gorgeous smile.

"I thought that maybe one beer today wouldn't quite cut it after all I put you through."

He waved her in, taking the beer, "Good call, Partner. Come on in." Deeks opened two bottles, placed them on the counter while he got a bag of frozen corn from his freezer. Kenzi grabbed a beer, taking a long pull as she headed for the couch.

Deeks sat on her left side, pretended to yawn in an exaggerated fashion while stretching his right arm (with corn at the ready) around her shoulders. He then slid his hand under her right arm so that the frozen veggies soothed her cracked rib.

"Smooth." She nearly laughed then thought better of it after a sharp reminder of her tender rib. That motion sobered his attempt at levity.

"Kens, hey, sorry. You okay?"

"I will be." She sighed then leaned into him. "This helps." Kensi propped her crossed legs on the coffee table, and settled in for some much needed down time with her best friend.

He finally felt resolution descending upon him, but more that than he felt . . . comfortable, content. Not wanting to tempt himself to push her too far tonight, he grabbed the remote and said, "You'll never believe what's on my DVR." He scrolled through until he found 'Raiders of the Lost Ark.' "One final tragedy to put to rights tonight. Seriously, I can't believe you haven't seen this. "

"Bring it on."

After the opening scene Kensi shifted in discomfort and Deeks flipped over the makeshift ice pack. He looked down at her and couldn't help a cheeky smile from erupting as he suggested, "It may work better if it's directly on the skin, so feel free to lift your shirt." She gave him an elbow to his ribs.

"OOF! Okay, I'm just sayin'!"

After a beat he casually asked, "By the way, who do you think would be a better kisser, Harrison Ford in his heyday or say . . . G Callen?" He didn't hide insecurity well but his curiosity always got the better of him.

She pretended to think deeply then replied, "Well, since I've only kissed one of them I'll have to say . . . definitely Callen."

"You know you're killing me."

"Oh, I'm counting on it." She rested her head on his shoulder and realized just how good it felt to lean on her partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Throughout the evening Deeks kept one eye on his partner, noted her changes in posture, and adjusted the corn so that the coldest parts soothed her ribs. When it thawed, he put it down on the coffee table, but tucked his arm around her shoulders once again. She didn't protest. She didn't even twitch when his thumb started lightly brushing her arm. He wasn't sure if he should count that as forward progress or dire straits. Either way, he wasn't about to stop until she made it clear she wanted him at a safer distance.

The movie was coming to a close while Kensi fought to keep her eyes open. She felt as though she had watched a slideshow with many tiles missing. Stills of Indy and Miriam tied to a pole, a creepy melting bad guy, and a looming warehouse all formed the closing montage. The only thread throughout was a pleasing warmth offset by a physically crushing feeling that Indy maybe never really made it out of the underground room with all the snakes.

The credits rolled and as much as Deeks was prepared to camp on the couch as they were, he wasn't certain that his injured partner should be upright and hunched over all night. Her breaths had gotten progressively shallower. Although, if she was sleeping through the pain it couldn't be that bad . . . could it? He shifted his arm to test just how deeply she was out of it.

She felt a nudge behind her neck and jolted, gasped but fell short of taking in a full breath by the pain that she realized had nothing to do with Harrison Ford's fictional predicaments. She let out a whimper that never would have been freed if she hadn't been skirting the edge of consciousness. Rather than open her eyes and denying her distress, Kensi kept her lids closed tightly and attempted to regain command of her rebellious body. The arm around her shoulders anchored her gently.

"Hey, Kens, how bad is it?"

She had taken a few shuttered breaths all the while knowing that she was not going to be able to pass this off as nothing. Her instincts demanded that she should push him away, claim that she was fine, grab her purse and walk out his door. That was a fine plan, however, her head throbbed, her arm stung and her ribs had swelled despite her partner's corn therapy so that the chronic constricting, accented with acute pain of every inhalation, formed a special brand of discomfort.

In the end, all she could mutter was "Hurts."

Eyes still closed, she felt the arm behind her retreat and her partner shift. She knew without opening her eyes that he was assessing her. She felt his fingers explore the bump on her head. "Well, I think the noggin's still in good order. Doesn't look too bad, although I'm sure you're still feeling it." She nodded. He realized that her other injuries were not visible for evaluation, and he was not certain whether he would be out of line to ask to see her ribs again. Well, he had to do something.

"Kensi, I know you're in pain, I know you want to play it down, but I need to you open your eyes and look at me." She obliged, but her glassy eyes looked at the ceiling rather than at her partner.

He placed one hand under her chin to angle her head and used the other to run his fingers over her smoothed back hair pressing to check for any other bruising. He swatted away her hand when she made a pathetic effort to discourage his actions. She resorted to pulling out her ponytail holder while still clenching her jaw in protest. He didn't mind the feel of her hair through his fingers but he knew better than to linger.

"I hate this." Her pupils seemed even, so no concussion.

"I know you do, but it's only temporary, okay. You got really banged up today and you've got to be feeling it. Kensi, you sat by my bed after I was shot, I know it's frustrating, but sometimes you draw the short straw and end up injured, and sometimes" and here he smiled, "you get to play nurse. Come on, just because you squandered your opportunity to play nurse doesn't mean _I'm_ going to be so lax when _I_ am tasked to look after _my_ partner." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Deeks, I don't need looking after, and I'm certainly not going to indulge any fantasies you may have about nursing me back to health." He laughed, and was relieved that she was up to a little snarkiness.

He hitched an eyebrow. "We'll see about that."

He figured she needed some space again so he sat on the coffee table next to her extended legs, touching only her shins . She didn't pull them away.

"Kens, do you have any pain meds? You aren't breathing well and there's no way you'll get any sleep like this." She hesitated, seeming to have hit a new low on the vulnerability scale.

She tried to draw herself up, regain control, "I was given a prescription and somehow it appeared, filled, on my desk tonight. Callen is a master pickpocket so my money's on him." She smiled at his thoughtfulness, although she had no intention of filling the prescription herself.

"Perfect, not only does he kiss you, now he's providing you with drugs? The guy is a seriously bad influence. I'll have to start checking your drinks for Ruffies next."

"Somehow, I don't think he's really that much of a threat. You can tell a lot about a guy from the way he kisses. No, he's a gentleman through and through." Now she was using stalling tactics.

Her partner flatly replied, "Fantastic." Redirecting the conversation, Deeks continued, "Regardless of who slipped you the drugs, you need to take them, Kens."

She gave a very even, calculated response, "I will, once I'm home. I'm not about to drive after having a beer _and_ narcotics." She thunked her feet off the coffee table for emphasis and made to get up, winced and barely kept the curses at a whisper. Her partner placed a solid hand on her shoulder and she didn't have the strength to fight him. She couldn't admit defeat so she settled for, "Give me just a minute, then I'll be fine."

Her eyes were clenched shut again and Deeks knew there was no way she was heading out the door. Now he only had to relay that to her in a way that would keep all of his limbs intact. His outstretched hand inched to her shoulder and he gently curled his fingers as he carefully started, "Kensi, I know you want to go home. I know you've had a long day. You've been shot, stabbed, beat up and have had some emotional curves thrown at you. Driving is going to be painful. This is LA - we're talking speed bumps, jerking to a stop every block and your reflexes are going to be slow from your injuries and how tired you are. I know you'll say you don't care and you'll be fine, but you could be a danger to others, and I know you well enough to know you that even if you don't want to be here, it's not worth the risk to go home tonight."

He saw his partner predictably formulating excuses, starting to speak, but then stopping each time. "Deeks, I can't . . ." She lifted her hand, brushed his off her shoulder and lifted her palm, fingers splayed shielding her from him.

What could she say? That leaning against him during the movie had disarmed her so much that she needed to run? That she felt so safe with him that it scared her? That every look he gave her in her mother's garage conveyed a much deeper level of trust and intimacy than she was prepared to maintain? The truth was she wanted to stay. She wanted to fall asleep knowing that Marty Deeks had her back while she hurt, while she felt shattered and weak. But control is a demanding master. She needed the comfort of that as well and so she was at odds with herself.

Knowing that she needed some measure of independence, but realizing that she had to bow to the logic of staying, he tried to make her feel as though she weren't the prisoner that he imagined she felt. "Hey, it's just one night. You can pretend I'm not even here. I'll crash on the couch, you take the bedroom and I won't even engage you in conversation. I'll never mention that you slept here and I'll even do your share of the paperwork for the next week. Just please stay so I know you're safe." His pleading eyes sealed the deal and she nodded.

Deeks walked over to Kensi's purse and pilfered through it way too comfortably, but extenuating circumstances made her look the other way. The only items in her purse that differed from the standard girl inventory were weapons, and those only served to remind him not to get carried away. He didn't take long to find the pills, read the instructions and return with one and a glass of water.

She shook her head, "Not yet, I don't want to take them until the last minute." Deeks absently wondered if there were 12 step programs for control freaks. When he was shot he pined for his next dose to take the edge off the pain, but not Kensi, no, she would rather fight the pain than be rendered less than perfectly in control of her faculties.

Fair enough. He got up, walked to his bedroom and placed the pill and water on the nightstand. He then pulled out a clean pair of sheets and quickly made the bed for her. She appeared at the doorway, clutching her side.

"Don't put yourself out, Partner. It's just one night and with those meds I'm not likely to remember it anyway." She smiled at his efforts, though.

He flipped the comforter in place with a flourish, "There, all done. Now let me find some pajamas for you and you'll be all set." He rifled through a few drawers and pulled out some long shorts with a drawstring and a t-shirt. He plopped them on the bed, passed her on his way out the door, and turned when she lightly touched his arm.

"Thanks . . ." and before she realized it she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Deeks sighed, taking this very seriously rather than using a joke to resolved the intensity of the situation. "Kensi, I'd do anything for you. You know that." And she did, even if she had a hard time accepting it.

"Shout once you're dressed, I'll need to change the bandage on your stitches . . . if that's okay."

She nodded, "That's fine."

He hesitated, "Kens, someone should check the swelling on your ribs. I can call Hetty or Nell, but I'm sure it's gotten worse throughout the day and your breathing is shallow . . ." he was running his hand through his hair with uncertainty.

"No, Deeks, it's okay, I trust you." He rested his hand behind his neck, his nervous fidgeting stilled.

"Thank you."

"You've earned it."

With that compliment he shut the door behind him and busied himself while he waited for her. He liked the thought of her being there. He had no ulterior motive; this was not about bachelor fantasies but about caring for his partner, this woman whose careful defenses he'd chipped away for two years. His altruistic motives didn't keep his mind from lingering over the memories of feeling her hair slip through his fingers as he checked for injuries or the sensation of touching her skin as he tested her ribs. They may be the only remnants of this intimacy that she'd allowed under special circumstances, so he was determined to savored them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kensi Blye was alone in Marty Deeks' bedroom. This was not the final scene that she envisioned for the day. She had every intention of sharing one beer with her partner then going home to lick her wounds and maybe cry a little . . . or a lot. Regardless, crying was off the agenda, and she was certain that any wound licking would have to be postponed as well. She did not resent Deeks for talking her into staying, it was the only logical solution, but she did not know how long she could hold out before the emotional dam broke. Despite how far they had come, the grief warring inside her required solitude.

He had been so sweet and she was tired . . . so very tired. That accounts for the impulsive kiss on his cheek, right?

She started the agonizing process of changing, stopping several times to catch her breath. She did not allow even a whisper of a sound that might compel her self-appointed knight in LAPD armor to come bursting through the door to tend to her. She had to smile at the thought of how much he would enjoy playing the role of prince charming. Deeks already saw her shirtless today, which he bore nobly, but she didn't want to make a habit of testing his gallant sensibilities.

She chastised herself for letting her thoughts roam from defensive strategizing to fairy tales. The point was that she needed to keep him at arm's length . . . and not hurt his feelings in the process. Emotional moderation had never been her forte so the night would likely end in disaster.

Sighing, she tied the drawstring then opened the door trying her best to seem unfazed by her multiple injuries. She couldn't force herself to go any farther.

Deeks saw Kensi lean against the doorframe, looking mighty fine in his athletic wear. He supposed that the pleasure the sight evoked stemmed from some sort of primal urge to brand her, which was, of course, a ridiculous notion. Still, he paused half a beat to memorize the endearing image of her in his clothes before reminding himself that she was his _friend, _his _wounded_ friend_. _He was lucky she had been too preoccupied to intercept his drifting thoughts.

As he snapped from adolescent admirer to caretaker, his brow furrowed. A few angry bruises shone on her newly exposed skin to bare witness to the intensity of her final struggles. Wincing, she clutched her side and grimaced. "Deeks . . . " Her voice held an uncertainty that revealed the preciousness of his situation. She had agreed to stay . . . with him . . . overnight. At some point she would lose consciousness and she was willing to allow him to be in the same apartment when that happened. This was a huge step and he felt honored and a bit unworthy since he had been eying her just moments before.

That pathetic plea slipped through unfiltered when Kensi had tried to take a deeper, calming breath, forgetting that it was a _really _bad idea. Before she could backpedal, she saw her partner rush to her side. _Well done, Kensi, way to discourage him._

"Kens, you alright?" She looked away.

Sensing that he should tread lightly, he settled for guiding her to the bed, barely touching the small of her back. She tentatively sat as he went to retrieve the bandages and surgical tape that he had on hand as a result of his own recent wounds, as well as a damp washcloth.

He sat next to her on the bed, rolled the short sleeve of his burgundy t-shirt and inspected the bandage. It was encased in clear tape, which was the only barrier between the bloody cotton and her borrowed shirt. Figuring that Kensi was a 'get it over with' kind of girl, he grabbed a corner and yanked off each piece of tape. She silently flinched with each tug. Bandage discarded, Deeks lifted the cloth and began gently ridding her arm of dried blood and adhesive residue while being careful not to pull her skin or get her stitches wet.

She stared straight ahead but her arm became increasingly tense as his movements became more unnervingly tender.

Trying to diffuse whatever was going on with her, Deeks commented, "Looks like you still bled quite a bit after those medics stitched you up. It's no wonder, those guys looked like they were about 16. You really shouldn't let anyone who can't grow facial hair stick you with needles." The words were casual but she didn't have to look at him to know that they contrasted with the intensity of his expression.

She coolly replied, "I'll remember that the next time I get stabbed. Any other advice, Doogie Houser?" His absurd affection was threatening to thwart her defenses. She was considering snatching the cloth away and telling him that her entire arm did not need a sponge bath, but his fingers . . . felt so . . . argh, she just couldn't do it.

He let go of her arm anyway, put the washcloth down, and replied with a shade less enthusiasm, "You do realize that Doogie Houser couldn't grow facial hair, Kens, so were you trying to be ironic? Or is it sarcastic? I'm always a bit fuzzy on the line between sarcasm and irony."

He was really more concerned with figuring out what line he seemed to have crossed. Not completely understanding, he still received the message to back off.

A wave of guilt surged through her. She had a flashback to Hetty making them waltz and realized that not only did she always insist on leading, she often ploughed him over in the process. She set the rules for their relationship . . . partnership . . . thing, and he always bowed to what she could tolerate. This was a chance for Marty Deeks to lead. As much as it scared her, and as unnatural as it seemed, she would risk letting him have this, at least for tonight. Decision made, she felt the burden of resistance lift.

She ran her left hand through her hair and shook her head slightly, "Sorry."

She inexplicably relaxed and stunned him by awkwardly placing her hand over his. He sensed that either he wandered back into safe territory, or she had moved the line. Either way, he risked rubbing his thumb against her finger. "You tired?" _Apology accepted._

"Yeah, like you said, long day." She was smiling at him now. "Could you hand me the water and pill?" She figured that her self-possession was at risk anyway so she might as well ease the pain.

Deeks paused, tried to decipher the way she went from snapping at him to looking so exposed . . . yet . . . not . . . uncomfortable in the matter of a few minutes.

Her finger lifted then tapped his hand a few times, "Deeks . . . water . . . pill?" She wasn't the only one feeling disarmed apparently. He reluctantly removed his hand from beneath hers and gave her the requested items. She met his eyes as she took the painkillers. He was stunned at the unspoken confession of trust. It's like she was swallowing her pride with the tablet. He placed the water back on the nightstand, and sat next to her, for once not sure what to say.

Deeks had never been a difficult person to read, something that she liked about him instantly, but also a trait in which she often took advantage. It used to amuse her, the way he considered her with equal parts infatuation and intimidation when they first were thrown together. She was a knockout, and she knew it, although she was anything but pretentious or snobby. She had that unassuming girl-next-door mentality with the body of a gun-slinging supermodel. He couldn't help but practically drool when they first met.

Somehow they went from point A (his adolescent drooling) to point B (her sleeping in his bed) and she hadn't noticed the progression. The same thoughts projected through his expression.

As much as she appreciated that they were on the same confusing page, she didn't want to discuss it quite yet so she yanked his chain once again. "Well, are you going to patch me back up, or should I call Callen?" That got the desired response.

"That rogue, never!" He tore off 4 pieces of first aid tape from the roll, placed the cotton square bandage on her arm, and took his time in securing it. He had turned towards her, anchoring his left arm behind them on the mattress and wrapped his right hand around her arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth a few times just below the cut.

"Good as new with no unwanted interference." He had inadvertently leaned forward and when she turned to face him they were close enough to breathe each other's air. They paused, looking alternately between eyes and lips, Kensi's hand rested lightly on his thigh. It was with much pain that Deeks remembered himself and resolved to retreat. Sure, this 'thing' they had wasn't new, and it seemed to demand to be quenched with a kiss at some point, but he didn't want her to look back and wonder if it were a kiss born out of pity, just as he needed to be sure it wasn't just a product of her emotionally unsettled state. If she had any regrets afterwards . . . well, he didn't want to risk losing any ground. As she leaned closer he cleared his throat and slowly withdrew from her personal space.

She self-consciously cleared her own throat in reply, removed her hand from his leg and, trying to diffuse her utter embarrassment, twisted her right arm so that she could see his handiwork.

"Thanks. Uh, I think I should get to bed." She looked everywhere but at him.

He, on the other hand, couldn't look anywhere but at her. "Kens . . ." she'd never heard her name uttered so carefully.

"No, it's okay, Deeks, I'm all over the place right now and, you're right, it wouldn't be a good idea. I didn't mean to . . . can we just forget that didn't almost happen . . . please?"

Both of her hands now covered her face. She was beyond mortified . . . and tired . . . and on the edge of sobbing. Pain meds sometimes had the effect of magnifying her emotions, why hadn't she remembered that? Of course she was a right mess before she even took them, and they probably weren't even in her system yet, so she couldn't even blame them for her impulsive behavior.

Deeks was faced with initiating damage control. Why hadn't he just let her kiss him? Well, he knew why and those reasons still stood, but he also knew this was one of those times when Kensi needed her partner to ground her, even if her partner _was_ the problem.

He nudged her shoulder with his, "Kens, I was just going to say that before you go to sleep you need to have your ribs checked. As far as anything else you were saying, I have no idea what you're talking about. Those pain meds must be kicking in already."

She replied with a nervous laugh but her right hand was still shielding her face. He reached up and took it in his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. All the while his eyes never left hers. The only thing he was missing was a crown and a regal heritage, but he definitely had the "Charming" part of this role down pat. She smiled despite herself.

"They must be, because I'm starting to have fairy tale delusions about my partner. That's proof that my grasp on reality is questionable at best." He congratulated himself on the save.

Her expression sobered as she realized her next predicament. She could tell that her bruising had spread, but she had shed her bra when she changed. She couldn't just casually remove her shirt for him this time, especially after that moment, or whatever it was that they just narrowly avoided. There were limits to the degree that she would test his self-control, and she had no intention of being quite _that_ vulnerable with him, so she balked.

Guessing her line of thought, Deeks suggested, "Kens, Why don't you lie down and pull up your shirt as high as you are comfortable with and I'll work with that?" She nodded her consent. Here he was, coming to her rescue yet again. Deeks helped her gingerly stand. He pulled down the corner of the bedding and steadied her as she slid into the sheets.

Laying down in someone's presence always made her feel exposed. She hated the feeling of being a display of weakness, especially in hospital beds with people standing over her. After all, she preferred to be the one staking out the high ground, not the poor soul in a low, defenseless position, much like she was earlier when she was shot. Almost as he read her mind, Deeks knelt next to the bed to keep himself at eyelevel. She was holding his gaze intently as she inched up her shirt. He didn't so much as glance at her exposed skin until her hand came to a stop a few inches safely south of indecent.

With her nod of assent, his gaze drifted lower. He saw to his dismay that the bruise had gained considerable purchase and blotches of blue and purple had emerged. "Oh, Kens!" He touched just under the bruise then carried on tracing around the perimeter until his fingers met with fabric. "I really don't want to hurt you, but I'm gonna need to poke a bit so hold your breath." She blindly groped for his other hand and he gave it eagerly. He pressed at a few points as he had done earlier. With every prod, no matter how gentle, his partner had squeezed his hand so he literally felt her pain. He was somehow glad for the sharp response as though it were a way he could take some of her agony upon himself.

The paramedics had wanted to take her for x-rays, but she had flat-out refused. Deeks remembered that after he was shot he was made to take deep breaths every hour to minimize lung damage from his broken ribs. He was sure her lung wasn't punctured, but he needed to make sure they still were working properly. He had no idea where all the other internal organs were but if she had punctured her spleen or liver or something she'd probably be running a fever.

"Kens, do you feel hot at all?" She shook her head but he felt her forehead with the back of his hand just to make sure. Normal. "Good."

He cautiously laid his hand under her sternum, just to the side of the bruising so that she barely felt it . . . but at the same time was acutely aware of it, how warm his touch was and how nice it felt. Perhaps the drugs were taking effect because she didn't push his hand way . . . she wanted it there and she didn't really care at the moment if he knew that.

"One more thing, Kens, then I promise I'll stop the torture. I need you to breath in as deeply as you can. I'm just going to feel if your lungs expand evenly, then I swear I'll let you rest." She nodded, clenched her eyes shut, then attempted a deep breath. She didn't get far before she flinched, cursed then whimpered.

"Sorry, Kensi, I'm so sorry." He went to remove his hand from her torso but was prevented by her left hand covering his right, leading it, away from her aching ribcage. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand and his thumb kept the same rhythm caressing her stomach. Her other hand had abandoned his so that her right forearm could rest over her eyes as she stifled tears. He felt the shutter of suppressed sobs though she made no noise other than an occasional sniff. Kensi was crying. He made Kensi cry. He had his hand on her exposed stomach, their fingers were crossing lines and Kensi was crying. This was messed up . . . very sweet and nothing Deeks would ever put an end to, but still so messed up.

Once the tears started flowing she knew she didn't have the energy to stop them. She missed her dad. She thought about him picking her up from high school when she had broken her arm in gym class. She hadn't remember the pain as much as how good it had felt to cuddle next to him on the couch when he had brought her home. He had died shortly after that. She then thought about when she had had her tonsils removed. She had been eight and her mom had read her Nancy Drew mysteries in quick succession. She had her mom back now, but only just.

"Your lungs seem okay, Princess. I'm so sorry. I should have waited until the painkillers had more time to work."

She had Deeks.

"S'okay." She felt his left hand smoothing the top of her head.

She'll never again have a dad, and her relationship with her mom will never be what it was, but she had Deeks.

"I know it hurts, but you'll need to try to breath in as deeply as you can at least several times a day so you don't end up in the hospital."

She nodded. She focused on his hand massaging her head and his thumb caressing her stomach.

After some time Kensi's shallow breaths slowed, her fingers stilled and she seemed to be asleep at last. Deeks was fighting leg cramps and the effects of knobby knees meeting threadbare carpet for far too long. He reluctantly removed his hands, stood and stretched. His partner's angry bruise taunted him again with all the 'what ifs' that would plague him for years to come. But she wasn't dead, she wasn't fighting life-threatening injuries, she was sleeping soundly in his bed. He scrubbed his hand down his face then decided he needed to tuck her in properly then get some sleep or he'd be no good for her come morning.

Deeks ventured to the kitchen and surveyed the freezer for ice. Hmmm, he really needed to get a real ice pack, or at least remember to fill his ice cube trays once in a while. Upon his return, he placed the chosen icepack aside, sat on the very edge of the bed, and reached for her hand that was still splayed over her bare stomach. He lifted it between both his hands then brought it to his lips. He kissed it ever so gently then slipped it back by her side. He reached his hands to her sides, thumbs hooking under the hem of her shirt but not touching her skin, and he eased it down, trying not to jostle her awake. She didn't move. He stood, pulled the covers to tuck them under her chin then bent down, placed a hand on top of her head then gave her cheek a lingering kiss. Remembering the frozen food he slipped the bag under the covers and rested it over her shirt. "Sweet Dreams, Partner."

He wanted her to mutter something under her breath like, "stay," or "I love you," but instead she continued slow shallow breathing and kept all her secrets for another day. He briefly thought of crashing on the other side of the bed – would she kill him if she woke and he was innocently on top of the sheets on the other side? Probably not . . . perhaps . . . the drugs will have worn off by morning so best not to risk it. The couch called his name and he succumbed to its pull.

The morning came way too soon and he woke up to his partner call out from his bedroom, "Tater Tots, Deeks? Really?"

Perhaps he should have chosen the pizza rolls.

**A/N: This originally was the end, but I added a follow-up after Neighborhood Watch. **


	4. Chapter 4 - Do Over!

**A/N: I had debated whether to put this as a follow-up chapter for Put to Rights or as a stand alone one-shot. In the end I decided to add it just in case I wanted to add more after other episodes. So it's not so much an epilog, as a one-shot extension.**

**Do over!**

Deeks had initially thought that it would be the best assignment ever. After the chaos from Kensi's father's case, she had let him care for her wounds, albeit with carefully orchestrated deflections on both their parts, but progress was progress. She had stayed at his apartment for one night, sleeping in his bed while he spent most the night awake on the couch. Then he had been given orders to play house and sleep with Kensi for an undetermined amount of time. It had sounded like a win/win.

The reality was the stuff of torture.

He had found himself playing Justin, the perfect husband, but the real challenge had been playing an unaffected version of Marty Deeks behind closed doors. He was good at undercover, so much so that he nearly could convince himself of anything. He could even act the part of being attracted to a woman of questionable character for the greater good, as long as he had the advantage of being called by an alias. He had soon found himself in some sort of utopic prison where he had been destined to be always with Kensi and had to play as though he were a Marty Deeks who had only plutonic feelings for her.

It seemed that he couldn't portray Bizzaro-Deeks when emotions ran too high. When Kensi had sat with him on the couch, ice pack on her arm (a real one this time, not pizza rolls or tater tots) the real Marty had sat with her. He had listened, truly listened, to her pining for a normal life. He had joked (sort-of) about offering his services if she wanted mini assassins, but they had been interrupted by a brick through the window before he had been able to match her views on domestic bliss. He had nearly slipped, risked becoming too honest, because one of them showing a lapse in personal boundaries had been known to happen, but it was the job of the other to anchor him or her back to the reality of who they were, and who they could never be.

The second time had been when he followed a blood trail through the house expecting the worst. His muscles had responded tactically, but his heart had beat erratically and his mind had spun with the possibilities of her bleeding out. Looking back it wasn't much blood, the drips had not grown as they would have with a serious injury, but he had seen blood – her blood and that had him reeling, much more than Bizzaro-Deeks should have. When he had seen that she had been perfectly fine, relief washed over him with a force that had nearly brought tears to his eyes. He had been worried, but this time she had deflected, tethering him back to their dysfunctional brand of equilibrium.

In the end they both had worked at remaining professional, barring a few inhibited moments, that was until the kiss . . .

* * *

><p>The assignment was over. Kensi was tired enough to let Deeks drive her home after their two week stint as Justin and Melissa. Truth be told she had gotten used to his company, his easy manners and, not that she would ever admit it to him, but he was easy on the eyes. She hadn't minded having the freedom to appreciate casually touching that well-muscled body. Despite the boundaries they had set, she hadn't minded waking up with a few limb infractions, on his part and hers. She had remedied them as soon as she thought he would be conscious enough to notice, but not a moment before.<p>

He pulled up to her apartment, put the car in park and got out to help her with her luggage. He was thankful that she had too much for one trip, otherwise he would have come up with some thinly veiled excuse to walk her to her door.

He was going to regret this, but he had the unfortunate need to kick himself while he was down.

As his partner unlocked the door he casually asked, "So, Kens, what's the verdict? Socially stunted duck-footed fed or super stud cop?" He twitched an eyebrow as if that would sway her.

She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder, "Deeks, I haven't been home in two weeks, and have been up all night. If you are trying to ply something from me you're going to have to spell it out." She rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. "On second thought, the answer is Callen – I don't really care right now what the question is." She turned on her heel. Her partner followed her in and put down the bag he was carrying.

It was all he had been able to think about since she had thrown him for a loop with the 'undercover' kiss. Which, of course, had came right after she had described in perfect detail what he had been wearing while undercover as Jason Wylie two years ago when they had met. He had wanted to play it off, as though the poignant moment hadn't been etched in his mind as well, but he just couldn't pass up a chance to confess. He had been thankful that he had been interrupted before he had to admit when he had fallen in love, because after all the honest answers they had supplied, he hadn't decided which way to play it. He hadn't felt like being the one to bring them back to center – they both had been crossing lines. He had been teetering between saying something completely random and admitting that she had gotten under his skin from their first meeting. The problem had been that he could not pinpoint the moment when her irritating idiosyncrasies became endearing, or when his infatuation turned into affection. This pause had resulted in a convenient out.

"I'll let your lapse in memory slide since you were injured and half asleep the first time we discussed this. In fact, that would make sense. There's no way that you would actually think that Callen would kiss better than Harrison Ford back in the day."

That got her attention.

"Is that what this is about? Seriously? You followed me in to see where you _rank_?" She laughed at him.

This wasn't going exactly as he had hoped, but honestly, he couldn't think how it would have gone differently. This is who they were, buddies, coworkers who bounce barbs off each other good-naturedly, flirting only with the understanding that it really couldn't mean anything – even when it sort of did.

"Oh, I know that G Callen is a lost cause now that you've kissed a master." He leaned in the doorway, trying to save face, fully expecting to be demolished by her next comment.

"Pah-lease! You were so shocked your lips didn't even twitch. I'm surprised they even bought it. So much for you being a master at undercover work."

And there it was. He was trying hard not to look like he was scraping his pride off the floor. The next step in their little dance was for him to deflect.

He puffed up his chest and declared. "Well, if you hadn't thrown yourself at me at the first flimsy excuse you could find, I might have been more prepared. Seriously, who would have seen that coming?"

"Callen, or Sam."

"Wait, you've kissed _Sam?_"

"No, I have not kissed Sam! I was simply making a point that they're professionals – ready for anything, and being the only woman on the team comes with certain . . . " she wrinkled her forehead, "sacrifices." At the split second flinch in his expression she regretted the word she settled on rather than 'responsibilities' or 'requirements.'

He recovered instantly then laughed slowly at her choice of words.

"So, tonight was 'taking one for the team'? I do hope you get some sort of reward, like a free coffee for every six agents you have to make out with. Well, seeing as though you have frequent flyer miles and I didn't pass muster on the first go around I want a do-over."

She shook her head, "What are you, eight?"

"No, that would be highly inappropriate if I were. I'm just saying that I deserve the chance to win your good opinion. As your partner I wouldn't want you to hesitate to kiss me again because you felt that the undercover experience was . . . lacking."

Her jaw dropped, but she was oddly reluctant to flat out refuse him. "A do-over for the sake of future missions? That is so lame, Deeks." To his surprise, her rant didn't end there. She crossed her arms but continued carefully as though it were a viable suggestion. "It wouldn't be the same. We're not needing to think tactically, there's no pressure of selling it as an act. It would just be kissing."

He surpressed a smile, "So, what you're saying is that the quantifying factors for a good undercover kiss have less to do with technique and more to do with pretense?"

Kensi suddenly felt unsettled. "I suppose."

"So, when you kissed Callen, you were both fully aware of the situation, despite tangling tongues? You never lost site of the mission and as soon as you broke apart there was no lingering pause, no rush of awe, just a perhaps a swipe to the lips and your head remained in the game for every split second?"

"As I said, we're professionals."

"No, you said _he _was a professional."

"And you think I'm not?"

Here he paused. Of course she was professional. She was acutely aware of setting boundaries and as responsible as he was about keeping their relationship appropriate despite the intimate situation. If one of them had cracked they both could have spun out of control. Hetty's admonitions had not been necessary. They had each grounded themselves emotionally and kept working at keeping their distance. But two weeks is a long time, and a kiss, even undercover, can't help but communicate what lies beneath the surface.

Deeks ran a hand through his hair, blew out a breath then answered, "Of course you're a professional, as am I, and under normal circumstances we don't break cover."

She leaned against the wall, "This wasn't exactly normal circumstances."

"That's my point. For that split second, I balked. I should have responded naturally, and I want to prove to you that I could do that."

"So, you want a do-over so you can prove that you can kiss me and I can kiss you and we can walk away unaffected?"

"That, and well, I really don't like ranking at the bottom of your NCIS top ten list."

Kensi walked closer to him, invaded his personal space and clarified, "Okay, so you want to knock my socks off with an epic kiss in order to prove that we could just walk away from it. All for the sake of future missions?"

"Do you see any flaws in that – "

Suddenly his partner gripped his shirt and kissed him with everything that had been pent up inside her over the past two weeks. Meanwhile a stunned Deeks, was deep in awe and completely unable to make any part of him, lips included, obey simple commands. When she pulled away, she flicked up an eyebrow, swiped a hand across her mouth and commented flatly. "Oh yeah, partner. That was epic." She sauntered out of the room before he got his bearings.

Epic was an understatement - every cell inside him seemed to tingle and swirl, until he realized that had frozen on her again. "Wait! Kens, I wasn't ready!"

She had her back to the wall in the next room nearly hyperventilating at the aftershocks that she's never let him see.

From the next room she heard him cry, "That was so not fair! I need another do-over!"


	5. Chapter 5 - A Sliver Lining

**A/N: This chapter follows Descent.**

**A Silver Lining**

He registered the sound of beeping but he lacked context.

The light stayed hidden behind guarded eyelids.

"Ahhhrrrruummm"

The foreign gutteral sound resonated through him.

"Deeks!"

He was flooded with warmth at the sound of his name and the feel of long fingers massaging his hand.

His eyes still refused to open.

"Rrrhhmmm." He couldn't will the sound into syllables or harness any one thought as the fragmented memories swirled through the darkness.

His whole body writhed from hurt, most of his body, anyway. His hand felt nice and he figured they must have him on the good drugs because his hair felt . . . . floaty.

"Hey, it's okay, Partner. You're okay now, but you gotta open those beautiful eyes for me, Deeks."

He tried to smile at the comfort inherent in her commanding voice but at the slightest movement of his mouth he simultaneously twitched, opened his eyes and whimpered like a little girl.

As soon as he locked eyes with his partner he tried to focus on her to ground himself. He mentally cursed the tears he couldn't restrain and tried to remember the last time he hurt so badly he cried. He thought he might have been seven.

His eyes followed the extension of her arm and he realized that the floatiness was from her elegant fingers combing through his hair. Kensi was smiling at him but her eyes were puffy and when she leaned down and kissed his forehead he saw tear tracks. He wanted to reach out, to wipe them away and wrap his arms around her, but his body wouldn't move and they didn't really do that sort of thing anyway, at least he didn't think they did.

He wanted to comfort her, to touch her. He always wanted to touch her, but they had a script and he played the part of detached grunge cop to her independent long-legged ninja.

They were definitely off script because his ninja had been crying – and she was touching him. He couldn't seem to do anything but writhe and whimper.

He was still reaching to knit together memories, if they were memories and not hallucinations. There were dental tools, and a swimming pool, Sam was staring, Kensi was . . . upset at him? Her expression was like the one she had now but not . . . not this exactly. He was still missing context and he hated being in a situation blind.

Kensi let go of his hand then sat on the bed by his hip. She went to touch his face then diverted to his shoulder.

His face. He couldn't talk, he could only move his lips with extreme pain and when he tested his jaw it was unresponsive.

He suddenly had context.

The beeping grew faster, his eyes honed on Kensi's with more urgency.

Torture.

Michelle.

Sam.

Kensi.

He had kissed Kensi.

He had kissed her. He remembered she had been frustrated with him and looking at him like he was breaking her heart six ways to Sunday. He had caressed her perfect skin and impulsively kissed her for all he was worth. He was feeling the aftershocks anew as her fingers brushed the bare skin of his shoulder.

The beeping sped even faster.

"Deeks. It's okay. You're safe."

He nodded slightly, thankful that for the moment he was prohibited from asking stupid questions or making unprofessional declarations in case Kensi wanted to go back to less unconventional ways of 'communicating' with him.

His thoughts were so jumbled. He didn't want to remember the rest. He didn't want to relive the torture. He didn't want to know if he'd been a weak link, if he was responsible for killing his friend, or his friend's wife. He had to know, but he couldn't stomach it, not yet.

He tried lifting his hand to cover his eyes and was alarmed to find his arm shaking from the effort.

Kensi smoothed a hand down his arm, gently gripped his hand in hers and adjusted their joined hands to settle on her thigh.

"You and Sam were unconscious when we found you. He was discharged yesterday. They had to do several surgeries to fix your teeth, wire your jaw shut and set a few toes. They kept you under at first so the swelling could go down and they could monitor your heart to make sure there won't be any lasting damage from electrical currents. Don't worry, though. You're heart is fine." She gave him a forced smile. "They weaned you off the anesthesia three days ago and you've been asleep for nearly a week. 'Bout time you woke up from your beauty sleep, Shaggy."

She looked so exhausted that he had no doubt she had been by his side the past three days waiting for him.

He looked down at his hand then back up at her.

"Don't worry about the shaking. Your muscles will be sore until you get your strength back, but you'll be back to mixed martial arts before you know it, Partner."

He squeezed her fingers and brushed his thumb along the back of her hand.

She cleared her throat and giggled self-consciously. "It's just so ironic, you know? Normally we can't get you to shut up, and now all I want to do is hear a snappy comeback or some inappropriate double entendre." She continued more soberly. "I thought I'd lost you, Deeks. After everything . . . I thought that was it."

He closed his eyes for a few beats but wriggled his fingers loose and glided his hand so it was flush on her lower thigh and squeezed.

"I don't know what you remember. Once your arms are stronger Hetty will need you to write or type a statement. For now you need to get some rest, but first I want you to know that if you hadn't have made it . . . our last conversation . . . after everything, I just didn't want that to be our end." She stammered through the confession, not meeting his eyes.

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily but he pressed his hand on her leg so she knew he wasn't trying to sleep. He chastised himself for brazenly kissing her, for drawing emotions to the surface which they both knew they had to keep under wraps. He could live with his own private torture of having her in his life, but never in all the ways he longed for. But it pained him to know that in satisfying his own need to touch her, to have that physical affection, he hurt her more deeply than all the times he shunned her. He had crossed a line that had been there to _protect_ her and had he died she would have resented him for it for all eternity. At least he had the chance to apologize and try to regain some kind of (albeit tension-laced) friendship.

He didn't want to wait to say the word. She deserved to hear it as soon as possible so he gripped her knee,, screwed his face in pain as he slightly parted his lips and through clenched teeth hissed his best attempt at "sorry."

Kensi swallowed thickly and wiped at the corner of her eye. "No, Deeks, there's a lot of things you've done that deserve an apology, but that kiss? I'll never regret that."

He knit his eyebrows together in confusion. She rubbed his hand with both of hers. "I'm only saying this once in the hopes that you'll remember it only as a morphine-induced hallucination. What I meant before was that it would not have been fair for you to give me the single most epically romantic moment of my life then leave me to live the rest of my days knowing that no other moment would ever compare."

He crinkled his eyes at her and she was relieved to see a mischievous glint return.

"We'll have to figure this out once you're better, but until then, I think some payback is in order. When you get discharged, if you need someone to keep you supplied with frozen corn and tater tots for your jaw or to tuck you in at night. I'd be happy to help. I'll even get the whole series of Indiana Jones movies and bring them over with pizza and beer."

He scowled at her. "Don't worry, I'll put your pizza in the blender and give you a straw for your beer." He huffed.

"For now, get some sleep."

He closed his eyes and felt her fingers card through his hair and her soft lips kiss between his eyebrows.

"Visiting hours are over, so I have to go."

She stood and gathered her things and went to leave. She paused at the door, twitched up an eyebrow and said. "By the way, Deeks? Much better than Callen."

She heard a faint whimper as he couldn't keep from smiling.

"Sweet dreams, Partner."


End file.
